


Summoned

by violue



Series: The Spirit of Lawrence High Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Astral Projection, Bottom Dean, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can feel it. Something's terribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summoned

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Casfucker](http://casfucker.tumblr.com)... any mistakes are hers because I'm all about shirking responsibility.

Dean still can’t drive. Not legally. But once in awhile, Sam will take the two of them out somewhere remote, and Dean will drive the Impala for a bit. It’s been great being behind the Impala’s wheel again. They go to rural back roads, mostly, or long, empty roads near fields and farmland where Dean doesn’t have to worry about his brain lagging and getting them into a horrific car crash. They had one close call where Dean zoned out and almost hit an escaped chicken, but Sam snapped him out of it in time, and that was weeks ago.

Right now it’s September. Dean’s friends have gone back to college until winter break, Sam’s starting his junior year of high school in a few days, and next week Dean starts work at The Roadhouse. It’ll be great to have a steady income that doesn’t come from selling pastries through Ellen once or twice a month.

They’re many, many miles from Lawrence, driving along some remote stretch of farmland. It’s dark out, and this is the first time Dean’s done this at night. He’s a little nervous, but Sam is right there in case something goes awry. Castiel’s got a later shift at the Gas-N-Sip tonight, and when Sam and Dean are done here, they have plans to pick Castiel up and go for burgers.

“So you had _all summer_ and you never introduced Cas to your friends?” Sam says, sounding unimpressed.

“Hey, it wasn’t me, it was _him._ He kept psyching himself out, thinking they wouldn’t like him.”

“That’s stupid, Cas is awesome.”

“Well, yeah. Anyway, he promised he’d let me introduce him to them during winter break, _and_ he’s coming to Thanksgiving and meeting the extended family, so… we’re good.”

“He’s coming to Thanksgiving? Oooh, are you gonna cook the whole meal to impress him?”

“I dunno, still a ways away. Mom said I should, but maybe that’s because she usually does it and she’d love to kick back while I slave away in the kitchen.”

“I could help too!”

Dean shakes his head vigorously. Dean’s pretty good in the kitchen, but despite Sam’s academic prowess, he is just... bad. Really bad. Smoke alarms, salt instead of sugar, buttermilk instead of cream, _bad._

Sam makes a little annoyed sound, like he knows exactly what Dean’s thinking. “Is Mom’s side of the family coming again this year?”

Dean opens his mouth to tell Sam that he’s not sure, and then he feels it.

A sickening, dark _wrongness_ in his gut, so intense he slams on the brakes, sending Sam pitching forward in his seat belt.

“What the _hell,_ Dean?!”

“Something’s wrong.”

There’s a… tug. Something is pulling Dean away. He needs to go to Castiel. _Now._

“What? What’s wrong?” Sam’s eyes are frantically searching Dean, like he might see an injury.

“Gotta…” That dark, swooping wrongness grows, and Dean doesn’t think he has a choice in this. He kills the engine, looking at Sam apologetically. “Might… be gone a bit…”

“Gone? Gone where? Dean? DEAN!”

  


  


  


  


 

Dean opens his eyes, and struggles to understand what he’s seeing.

He’s behind the counter at the Gas-N-Sip. He can hear Sam’s agitated yelling in the background, back where his body is slumped over unconscious in the front seat of the Impala, but the room he’s in now is silent, save for the sound of Castiel’s panicked breathing. Castiel is in front of Dean, and hasn’t noticed his boyfriend materializing behind him yet. Castiel is too busy staring at the man on the other side of the counter.

The man holding a gun.

Dean recognizes this guy. His name is Cole Trenton, he was a senior at Lawrence High when Dean was a freshman. Apparently his life post-graduation has not been ideal. Dean had heard Cole was joining the military, but he has no idea if that actually happened or not. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that right now Cole is standing there pointing a gun at Dean’s boyfriend and looking pretty agitated.

“Are you going to open that fucking register, or what?” Cole snaps.

“Y-yes,” Castiel says, “please don’t shoot me.” Castiel reaches forward, tapping a few buttons on the register so it springs open.

Cole is a fucking idiot, robbing the store with no mask on. There are cameras here, which Dean’s never thought about before, but somewhere there’s probably hours of footage where it looks like Castiel is smiling and talking to himself while Dean’s astral body is visiting him.

Cole pushes a plastic grocery bag over to Castiel with the hand not holding a dirty and battered Glock 26. “Put the money in that.” Castiel slowly starts to pull money out of the register and Cole’s expression grows angry. “Why the fuck are you moving so damn slow?!”

“You have a gun. I thought sudden, fast movements would be unwise.”

Jesus. Even in a life or death situation, Castiel still talks like a fucking textbook. Dean wants to do something, _help_ , but he doesn’t want to make things worse.

“You don’t have to make _sudden_ movements to work fast, fuckstick.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel, says, working faster. He shoves all the cash into the bag, then steps back.

Cole eyes the bag, then looks back up at Castiel. “Put in a carton of Camels.”

Castiel nods, turning slowly to get the cigarettes and freezing when he sees Dean. His eyes widen in panic, then soften, and he smiles gently. Dean has this horrible feeling like Castiel is trying to savor a last fucking look or something. He mouths “I love you” to Dean, reaching past him to get the cigarettes.

Dean wants to shout at him not to fucking act like he’s about to die, but instead he says “Love you, Cas. Always.”

Cole yanks the carton out of Castiel’s shaking hand as soon as he turns around, stuffing it in the bag and taking the bag by the handles. He takes a step back, looking toward the door, then back at Castiel.

“Okay—” Cole freezes, and then Dean hears it; sirens. No. No, no, no, he was _leaving._ Now he looks pissed. “Did you fucking call the cops?!” he yells.

“No. _No,_ I swear.”

Cole raises the gun. “You called the _cops,_ you piece of shit.”

“Wait. _Wait!_ ” Castiel pleads, holding his hands up defensively. “Listen.” The sound of sirens gets louder and louder, then quieter. The police are driving past the store. “See? It’s okay. I didn’t call the police. You can still leave.”

Cole frowns, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “You’ll call them after, though. And you’ve seen my face.”

“I won’t,” Castiel says slowly. “I… please.”

“No… no, I’m sorry, kid… I’m sorry, but…” Cole starts to raise his gun, and no. Dean’s not standing here and watching his boyfriend die. He shoves Castiel to the side as hard as he can, knocking him to the floor as Cole’s gun goes off. He vaults over the counter, slamming a fist into Cole’s face with all the finesse of a train derailing, but all that matters is that his astral fist makes _real_ contact with Cole’s face.

Cole drops like a stone, looking up and around in confusion, clearly not seeing Dean. Dean hits him again, harder, and this time Cole is knocked out cold.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean yells, looking over at the counter.

Castiel groans, standing and rubbing at a scrape on his head from hitting the floor. He turns to look at the bullet embedded in the wall by the cigarettes, then back at Dean. “Always saving me, Dean.”

“No more late shifts, okay?”

Castiel nods, reaching for the store’s phone. “No more late shifts.”

  


***

  


While waiting for the police, Dean has Castiel call Sam to let him know he should try to wrangle Dean’s body out of the driver’s seat and start driving back to town. Castiel kicks Cole’s gun to the other side of the room, glaring down at him while he lies there unconscious.

Then the police arrive. Cole gets roused with smelling salts and is led outside, stumbling and babbling in a way that makes Dean think he might have given him a concussion. Oops.

Castiel rides in a police car to the station, sitting in the back with Dean at his side, unable to really acknowledge Dean without alerting the two officers in the front seat.

Dean’s astral body tires out halfway through the ride, and he startles awake in the back of his own car, groaning as Sam drives them over a pothole.

“Dean? You okay?” Sam says from the front, trying to turn and look at him.

“My head is killing me, fuck.”

“Uh… that was my fault,” Sam says, sounding sheepish. “I had some uh… trouble getting you into the back.”

“Did you _hit my head_?”

“Give me a break! I’m sixteen, and you’re heavy. Let’s just be glad I didn’t break anything.”

“Ugggh…”

“Shut up, you’re fine.”

“Easy for you to say. How far out are we?”

“Another ten minutes or so… took me forever to move you.”

“Okay, we need to head for the police station.”

“Dude, _what_? What happened? All Cas said was that I should bring you back to town, are you… is he…”

Dean sighs, sitting up and shaking the cobwebs in his brain loose. “Well first of all, you are never, _ever_ working in a convenience store at night, you hear me?”

  


***

  


When they get to the police station, Castiel’s mother is crying hysterically on a bench, while Chuck and Anna comfort her. Dean can see Castiel beyond the doors to the bullpen, talking to an officer and gesturing emphatically with a frowning Gabriel standing next to them. Seeing such a serious expression on Gabriel’s face is kind of freaking Dean out. It’s unnatural.

Dean and Sam awkwardly greet the Shurley family, sitting at an adjacent bench. No one talks, aside from Becky occasionally sobbing that she needs to hold her son. Dean wonders what Castiel is telling the police. He wonders what the cameras at the store caught. He wonders if Becky is going to pass out from exhaustion with how intensely she’s crying.

Gabriel comes out and gives a wave of acknowledgement to Dean and Sam. “So… surveillance footage at the Gas-N-Sip is digital, and Nora… Cas’ manager, she pulled what she had and e-mailed it to the station.”

“And?” Becky says.

“There was a… glitch. The assailant… Mr. Trenton _…_ raises his gun, and then it goes dead just as Cas falls down to the floor.”

Sam glances over at Dean, and Dean shrugs. He definitely didn’t fuck up the footage on _purpose,_ he wouldn’t know how _._

Becky straightens up, expression sobering. “Is that enough evidence against this man?”

“Hey, I’m a chef, not a lawyer. But it’s clear Trenton is in the video, it’s clear he pointed his gun at Cas, and the bullet they’re digging out of the wall is _going_ to match the gun covered in his prints. Plus, the guy has a record. In my amateur opinion, he’s looking at several months in county lockup, a quick trial, and a few decades in prison for armed robbery, and probably attempted murder.”

Dean shudders. Attempted murder. Cole was going to _kill_ Castiel.

“If I get my hands on him…” Becky growls.

“Ma, it’s okay. Castiel’s okay. He’s just got… paperwork and statements and shit, and then we’ll be good,” Gabriel says, plopping down on the bench next to Sam and Dean. “Does anyone have a deck of a cards?”

  


***

  


It takes _hours_ before everything is squared away and Castiel can leave. It’s nearly two in the morning and Castiel’s family wants to take him home, but he insists on going with Sam and Dean. Dean’s treated to knowing smiles from Becky and Anna, eyebrow waggles from Gabriel, and Chuck suddenly finding the floor very fascinating.

Whatever, Dean just wants to curl up with Castiel and fall asleep.

  


***

  


Three a.m. rolls around and Dean is decidedly _not_ sleeping. He’s lying on his side on his bed, teeth digging into one of his pillows while Castiel drives into him from behind with hard, desperate thrusts.

“You came for me,” Castiel says softly, voice breaking off on a moan. “I was terrified, and I thought I was going to die… and you _came for me_. Always saving me, Dean.”

“I felt… something. I think it was your _fear,_ Cas… it called me right to you.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whimpers.

“As long as I’m able, Cas, I’ll always come.”

Dean pauses, then starts chuckling at what he just said. Castiel slows his movements, huffing out a laugh against the back of Dean’s neck before pulling out entirely.

Dean groans. “Are you going to withhold sex to punish me for my embarrassing sense of humor?”

Castiel rolls Dean onto his back, crawling over him. “I think that punishes both of us,” he whispers, bringing their mouths together and guiding himself back inside Dean’s body. Dean shudders, hoping they’re being quiet enough to stop his family from being traumatized.

“I’d do anything for you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, rolling his ass into Castiel’s thrusts. “I don’t know why— oh fuck _yes_ — don’t know why we’re connected like this… but I’m so fucking glad.”

“Dean… Dean, _fuck._ ”

“Whatever this is… magic, science, souls… I’m so grateful for it.”

Castiel buries his face in Dean’s shoulder, and Dean feels tears spreading onto his skin.

“I’m grateful that I got to know you, and I’m grateful for the weird astral body that let me protect you tonight.” Dean groans as Castiel’s hips start to jerk unevenly. “Okay, now your turn. Tell me how lucky you are to have me.”

Castiel lets out a weird, sobbing laugh then comes, hot and perfect in Dean’s body. He makes a few broken little whimpers and then a hand is wrapping around Dean’s cock and jacking him in wet, efficient strokes until Dean’s whining and coming between their sweat-covered bodies.

Castiel pulls back to smile at Dean, still shuddering with the aftershocks. “I’m very lucky to have you, Dean. My friend. My hero. My _love._ ”

Dean closes his eyes and smiles, embarrassed but pleased as Castiel continues.

“The man that’s going to cook me dinner every evening when we move in together next year.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“The man that’s going to give me foot rubs every night.”

“Or that.”

“The man that’s going to get us a damp washcloth so we don’t wake up covered in unpleasant dried fluids.”

Dean snickers, shoving Castiel off of him and looking for his robe. “Alright, alright.”

“The man that’s going to cook me french toast in the morning...”

“The man that’s not gonna put out again if you keep making demands.”

Castiel smirks. “The man that’s lying through his teeth because we both know he _loves_ putting out…”

“You suck!”

Who is Dean kidding, Castiel is totally right.

  


END

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys have enjoyed all the timestamps! This is all I have for right now, but I don't think this is the last we've heard of Astral!Dean.


End file.
